


Ceaseless Watching and Chill

by Noceu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Handcuffs, Horror, M/M, Mind fuckery, Oral Sex, Police, Post MAG 118, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 14:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16019630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noceu/pseuds/Noceu
Summary: Just as things start to go south, Elias receives a not entirely unwelcome visit.





	Ceaseless Watching and Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the theory that the incriminatory documents taken by Melanie in MAG 118 are the tapes containing Gertrude and Leitner's murders, which are then used to get Elias arrested. This will most likely get jossed tomorrow, so I wanted to get the fic out here as soon as possible!

“Not so fast, Bouchard.”

Elias gritted his teeth. Inhale, exhale. He counted up in his head. Ten didn't feel like enough. His eyes flickered, rolling darkly between the scene unfolding before him and the far-off pinprick of Knowledge, of feelings that weren't his own. Outside, the sound of voices and car engines blended with the otherworldly tune of a calliope and the Archivist’s screams.

Three men stood before him, bulky, bloated in their own self importance. Officers, of course. Elias glimpsed the guns and sighed. He could've dealt with any of them individually, he could have plucked their deepest, darkest fears and fed them the awful truths they were conveniently blind to, if he didn't intend on keeping the connection with Jon. He could have done a number of things to stop them. 

Could have. 

“Does it seem like I'm about to go anywhere?” Elias hissed. The missing tapes hung like a noose around his neck. And right now there was little he could do about any of it. 

“You've lied about it before, wouldn't trust you not to again.”

Damn Martin. 

It had worked. Of course Elias hadn't seen it coming. He had been too absorbed in his work and the actual sight of the Unknowing, the wealth of information pouring from it, to notice the theft. In fact, it wasn't until the policemen had step foot in the building that he'd been alerted there was something amiss - that had been Rosie. By now, he imagined Martin and Melanie were somewhere his Power didn't penetrate. Like the tunnels. 

If only he had more time. 

One of the officers said something and Elias barely heard it over the ringing of gunshots in his mind. He swallowed down the urge to slam his fist on the desk and broadcast the end of the world to these pathetic excuses for human beings, clueless of what they dared meddle with. 

From the corner of his eye, Elias saw a wisp of fog materialise from under the door, swaying as if moved by a non-existent breeze. 

“Lie? Why would I do that? I will follow you gentlemen outside,” Elias said as he stood, clenching hands, arms crossed over his chest. Images flitted through him: the Archivist gone; the world ripped inside out; his own inconsequential fear feeding someone else's God. 

“You'll do more than that.”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” Elias scowled. “I'm sure you would know everything about that.”

Jon wasn't safe and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Thanks to Martin's intervention he could barely focus for long enough to See what was going on in that Theatre. And now there was a pressure mounting at the base of his neck, a twinge of pain creeping up his head that reminded him of the  _ other _ Powers at play here. 

“Not like that,” one of the men growled at him. “Lower your hands slowly. Away from your body. And keep them there where I can see them.”

“Is that really necessary? As you can see I'm unarmed and perfectly harmless, Mr-” He paused, pierced that lovely soft layer of  _ human memory  _ for a name. “Miller.”

Shock reverberated through Miller. “You're a murderer, Bouchard. You're not getting anywhere before we put these on you.”

Elias had no leverage. With more time he could've stopped them. But with more time he could have also broken Martin and avoided any of this nonsense. His eyes narrowed and he glared as one of the officers reached to handcuff him, yanking hard enough to jostle him off balance. He was forced to lean on the wall, icy metal biting into his skin. His heartbeat drummed in time with the Stranger’s song. 

“Well, come on then,” Miller said with a smugness Elias could  _ feel  _ prickle through him. His grip was firm and he'd started to pull Elias past other officers when the door slid open and a thick rolling wave of fog entered the room. 

Elias had to refrain from rolling his eyes or biting his tongue just as an elbow connected with his ribs. Shouts mingled with the staccato whirring of clockwork and within a moment, two of the officers had their guns trained on him. The third pointed his at the figure on the doorway. 

“Oh, huh. Am I interrupting something?” Peter said, languidly savouring each word as if his amusement could be tasted in the sea salt air that invaded the office. Elias supposed that wasn't impossible, there was a lot about Peter he'd never needed to Know. “You didn't tell me you were expecting visitors.”

“Stop right there and identify yourself.” 

“Don't move!”

Peter grinned and Elias gave him a quick sharp nod.  _ Go on, _ the motion said,  _ get rid of them so we can talk. _

It all happened too quickly for Elias to see without feeding into the Lonely. Peter lifted one hand and for a timeless moment, the room, reality itself fell from view. Silence reigned, white blanketing reality as the fog washed over the world like the tide. Elias had only witnessed this once or twice before. It was an interesting experience to catalogue, although not nearly as pressing as the Unknowing, and not nearly as harmless to him as watching Jon. 

No sound, no sight entered the Lonely. No darkness, either. The policemen vanished from view and a terrible emptiness ached in Elias’ chest, teasing him with emotion he hadn't felt in a very long time. He needed distance. He needed to watch. 

It was gone in an instant and, between breaths, the Institute came back into focus. Bland cream walls and the reddish mahogany of Elias’ desk bled through the ghostly fog as it crept back, twirling around his and Peter's legs before finally disappearing as quietly as it had come. It took Peter's victims with it - part of them, anyway. 

A gun clattered to the floor and bullet shells rolled across the carpet by Peter's feet. 

“You allowed them to fire,” Elias sighed. He glanced up at hole in the wall roughly the height of Peter's head and the dust coating part of his suit. “I believe we had an agreement about that. No violence in my office. Remember?”

“Why, hello there Elias. It’s always lovely to hear how appreciated I am here.”

Elias breathed sharply. There was a horrified noise, maybe Jon's voice, somewhere in the recess of his mind. It was followed by a haunting melody that made his blood freeze in his veins. As the Archivist’s power waned against the Stranger, so did the thread that connected the two of them. 

“Is there something you wanted, aside from interrupting my work?”

“And saving your arse, you mean?” Peter scoffed. Elias saw his pale blue eyes narrow, glinting in the light with all the subtlety of a predator sizing up an adversary. 

Elias had dealt with worse. “I would have handled it myself,” he said. 

“With those on?” Peter grinned, his expression annoyingly broad. He reached in Elias’ direction and patted the metal cuffs with two fingers, then palmed Elias’ wrist, pulling him closer. “Never thought I'd see you scraping like a common thug.”

“No, that is your job, is it not?” 

Peter chuckled and it served only up annoy Elias further. “My job is to serve our mutual interests, as you well know it,” he said wryly.  _ Let me help, _ he didn't - wouldn't say. 

A jolt of sensation shot up Elias’ arm. He scowled and considered yanking his arm back. There was a threat lurking somewhere under the layers of cheerfulness Peter wore like a well fitted jacket and if it weren't for the Lukases patronage, Elias would've never tolerated his frequent visits to the Institute. But well, he did try to keep his  _ enemies  _ close. 

And it was so much simpler to deal with the rest of the Powers when they believed him to be a mere observer. 

“If you're waiting for an accolade, you might as well make yourself comfortable,” Elias replied, his tone forcibly soft. His face was inches from Peter's and he felt a cold sea breeze along the lines of his jaw. 

“A thank you would suffice.” 

Elias felt his muscles stiffen with barely contained irritation. He knew exactly what kind of _thanks_ Peter enjoyed and this was not the time to play games. “Do you even know what you're doing?”

“It finally kicked off with the circus,” Peter said rather matter of factly. His free hand encircled Elias’ hip, heat rolling of their bodies. “I don't need your Eye to know that. I can hear it too, you know.”

“Then you know why you shouldn't be interrupting me.”

“So that you could watch it all down in the station?” Peter actually laughed, gruff and coarse, like there was anything even vaguely amusing about the situation. “We both know you’d rather have me stay.”

“Hm.”

Another time Elias would not have allowed Peter to touch him at all. Now he barely resisted as he was tugged toward the stiff corner sofa and moved until he was sat back with Peter resting knelt between his legs. To say it was  _ grounding  _ wouldn't have been a lie; to simply allow Peter to do what he wanted with his body while Elias gaze focused somewhere else was… not entirely unpleasant. 

Besides, Elias did owe him. He could've convinced Peter to take his  _ thanks _ later, if he weren't already so distracted. The choir of skinned bodies writhed and sung, and in his mind, he felt Jon's shock, his pain, blinding hot and so  _ arousing _ . 

Elias ran his fingertips across the top of Peter's head, smoothing down stray hairs over his temples. “I am very busy. Take what you  _ must  _ and leave.”

Peter flashed him a toothy grin. “Oh, don't worry, I remember exactly how you like it, old friend.” He stroked the slight tent in Elias’ trousers, firmly pressing the heel of his hand to the base of Elias’ straining cock and kneading his fingers over its bulge.

Pain tinged pleasure shot through him. The Unknowing unfurled before Elias’ eyes in all its beautiful, horrifying nonsense. His hips jerked and he gave himself to his own watchful hunger, relaxing under Peter’s steady hands.

Endless rows of spectators stood, glass eyed wax figures locked towards a grand stage, and in the centre of it all: the Dancer, slow rising, doning old, stretched skin as if a metamorphosing creature. Elias strained to See closer. He noticed Jon and-

“So, how about you tell me what happened  _ here?” _

“That is none of your business.” Elias gasped as Peter hooked one finger on the zipper and freed his cock. The office was still several degrees cooler than his flesh and the contrast burned  _ just right.  _

_ “ _ Don't forget we keep this roof over your head.” It wasn't a warning, nor a threat. 

Elias hissed, cursed the moment he'd agreed to this partnership, as he often did during Peter's visits. “It had nothing to do with you, or yours. Our plan still stands,” he said, ignoring the way Peter’s nails tickled his inner thighs.

“What then?” Peter glanced up. His breath caressed the head of Elias’ cock. His tongue slid over its length and Elias shuddered. “I thought you had the utmost trust in your Archivist’s abilities.”

“Jon's abilities are not what concerns me. There are rogue elements at play and… ” Elias trailed off, moaning softly when Peter took him in his mouth. His eyes fell shut - he hadn't been using them anyway - and in the darkness, he Saw Jon's face twisting with barely contained panic. 

Peter pulled out frustratingly soon after, lapping at the beads of precome gathering on his cock. “Jon is it now?” 

“Just get on with it,” he growled.

Peter didn’t. Instead, his lips glided along the line of Elias’ abdomen, kissing and nipping at his skin hard enough to bruise. “Did all your scheming not foresee the problem? I have to say, you've really changed Elias,” he mouthed. “Getting soft, I think.”

“Clearly not.” Elias didn’t bother to point out he couldn’t See the future any better than Peter could, which was not at all. His cock throbbed and he arched, bucking against the weight and heat of Peter's hand on him. “And if I was, what would that make you? Taking  _ pity  _ on me.”

Peter’s laughter grated in his ears. “Not a pity if we’re enjoying ourselves.” There was a rustle and what could’ve been Peter pulling his own trousers down his too-pale legs. “Besides, it’s good to see you actually listening to advice.”

“Shut up.” 

“No, really.”

Before he had a chance to react - perhaps kneeing Peter in the face wouldn’t count as a transgression now - Peter returned his attention to Elias’ cock. He sighed. His mouth was just as hot as Elias remembered, disarmingly tight and soft and when he swallowed Elias felt Peter’s throat relax to accommodate him.

They stayed like that for a little while. With Elias too caught up in these blissful glimpses of Jon (always Jon) and living mannequins and visions of Entities that defied reality to notice the moment Peter started moving. His head fell back.

The Stranger’s song was all he heard and its rhythm mingled perfectly with the movement of Peter’s lips, of his tongue. Relentlessly forceful. Slower at first, then faster, up and down, again and again until every nerve in his body was alight with the need to let go.

Not yet, Elias told himself. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, waiting for  _ more _ ; for the ache he enjoyed.

The music grew louder, bolder and more frantic - desperate in its restraint. If he hadn’t already Known of their involvement with the Stranger, Elias might’ve been surprised by the Slaughter’s role. There was a reason he hadn’t suggested Melanie to Jon. Not that it mattered anymore.

“Peter,” Elias moaned breathily, dragging his vowels as Peter took him deeper, resting the tip of his nose over a mass of curly dark hair. 

Elias looked down and for a second, their eyes met. Yes. He could do this, he thought. 

The show was coming to an end. The grand finale. Explosions rumbled far off in the distance, but instead of silence, what followed was nearly too chaotic for Elias to follow. Death - but not Jon’s. That was enough - more than enough.

He wasn’t sure when he came, his orgasm forgotten between the throes of a pleasure-pain that wasn’t entirely his own. Peter followed, Elias didn’t need to Know to  _ know _ . He felt Peter’s mouth work a wordless shout around his cock and a shudder than ran through them both.

It was over quickly. Nearly three hundred years of machinations gone in a blaze, of roasting flesh and cinder that fell from the sky in great chunks. Of smoke so dark it distorted his view of the horizon. 

With nothing left to watch Elias finally looked away, just in time to see Peter crawl up and rest his forehead on his chest. His suit was crumpled and sweat stained parts of it. His wrists ached from the cuffs but when they sank together, a boneless heap of limbs on the leather sofa, Elias couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.

It didn’t last very long. 

“I hope you are going to clean the mess you’ve made,” Elias said, clasping his fingers together as he surveyed the room.

Peter grin was wide and cold against him.

 


End file.
